


A Hymn to The Sea

by little_elleth



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Class Differences, F/M, Gen, Titanic AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-03-04 00:08:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2893157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_elleth/pseuds/little_elleth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hobbit Titanic AU fic</p><p>{**CHAPTERS 1-5 REVISITED AND REWRITTEN**} </p><p>The Titanic is the ship of dreams for those looking westward to America hoping for wealth and jobs, and after watching his family fall into debt after his grandfather's death, Thorin Durinson looks westward in hope of finding a steady income and way to provide for his family. The only problem is that he must leave behind his two nephews and after hearing about his plan, the two nephews make a plan of their own. Finnigan and Killian have never been anywhere without their uncle and are not simply going to watch as he journeys beyond their grasp for what seems to be the last time.</p><p>The two brothers make plans of their own and decide that they're going to join their uncle on his adventure, but first, they must find a way to sneak onto the ship right under the noses of the crew and their beloved uncle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Race You to the Start

**Author's Note:**

> After a conversation with a dear friend of mine, I've decided to continue a fic I've previously abandoned due to school and writer's block and after re-reading it, I've decided to make some improvement and adjustments so it matches with my current writing style and I hope you guys enjoy the updated version!

Chapter 1

“Are you sure about this, Fee? ” Killian struggled to keep up with his brother's long strides, stopping to catch his breath every other ten seconds as he hauled a large worn-out suitcase with one hand while he parted the crowd with his remaining free hand. Finnigan lead his brother through an intricate network of streets and alleyways until he stopped abruptly outside a weather beaten building tucked away in the corner of the main street and gestured for Killian to come closer. With one last breath, he threw the suitcase onto the ground beside his brother and rubbed his sore, swollen, red hand as he glared at Finnigan with questioning eyes. They had set out in the early hours of the morning from their little cottage in the Winchester countryside, leaving a hastily scrawled note on the kitchen counter for their mother to find while preparing breakfast for the boys. It was cruel, but it was also necessary to their plan. They had planned for this adventure from the moment uncle Thorin had let it slip during dinner that he was going to travel to America in hopes of getting a good business deal to support the whole family. The Durins had once been a noble respectable family back in the day, but now most of them were reduced to living off inheritance. “I hear Dáin's stricken' a good deal with the Ironhill miners up north. Ironfoot's what they callin' him now.” they heard him say once. No one, not even the brothers pretended to not have heard the wistful tone in which he spoke in which lead to several nights of careful scheming right under their's mother's unusually pointy nose (their mother had once told them that the Durins were known for two things: their long lost wealth, and two, their long sharp noses that seemed to be a family inheritance) and bribing a local coachman to appear just outside their house at just the right time to whisk them away to Southampton where the second part of their great scheme would commence.

“Aye, I'm sure about this. Look at the sign,” Finnigan pointed eagerly at the dark green sign above the entrance to the building where it gleamed in the morning sunlight. Killian wasn't sure he had ever seen him this excited since they started formulating their plan; he looked like he was about to positively wet his breaches from excitement. “The Prancing Pony. Pub's seen better days in the past, but we're not here for a chipper, boy. We're here to win us some tickets to America,” he said with a gracious about of enthusiasm in his voice and turned to face Killian — who shifted his focus from the red mark left on his palm from carrying such a heavy load to the sign that hung out from the brick wall. “How're you so sure that it'll work as planned? Didn't mum say sum thin' abou-” Killian was cut short as his brother lifted the suitcase and began to pace towards the entrance to the pub, leaving him to trudge after him. “Sucks to what mum says. We're following our Uncle to _whereverthehell_ New York is whether he likes it or not, _and_ we're going to win the tickets fair and square.” adding in the last part like it was an afterthought.

Finnigan reached into the pocket in his worn trousers and took out a gold pendant emblazoned with intricate designs with a large white opal set into the centre of the pendant. It was one of their last family heirlooms and a man would be a fool to not desire such a masterpiece. The opal reflected shades of pink, blue and green in the sunlight and gleamed like the moon. “We are going to win those tickets and I've been practicing my techniques so we'll get the tickets _and_ we get to keep the Arkenstone,” Finnigan shoved the pendant back into the pocket before pushing open the entrance while Killian grumbled and followed him into the pub. 

The constant chatter in the pub immediately drowned out Killian's grumbling and no one cared to pay notice to the two youngsters entering the establishment. The tables were tightly packed together and waiters were frantically running back and forth from the kitchen to the tables with overloaded trays of food sitting on top of them. Out of all the shady inns and pubs the brothers had ever visited, this one seemed to be the most jolly and welcoming of them all. Finnigan pushed his brother back slightly as a waiter rushed past them to get to a table at the far side of the pub and left a trail of scents in it's path. Killian's expression softened as he breathed in the pleasant smell of roast black pudding and his vision of reality began to fade as the scent transported his mind back to a time where the two brothers were children eating dinner at the kitchen table with their whole family packed into a small room enjoying a humble family reunion feast on New Year's Day. 

Those times were long gone, and his dream faded when Finnigan tugged at his waistcoat and lead him to the back of the pub, carefully avoiding the people racing between the tables to retrieve empty dishes and replacing the used cutlery with clean knives and forks which seemed to gleam even under the dim light of the chandelier above them. 

The hustle came to a sudden pause when a large man with a red trench-coat swung over his shoulder pinned a scrawny man against the wall and held him up by the collar of his shirt. “You loose, I get your money. That's the point of the game. Pay up the two thousand pounds you promised before I fetch the boys to come teach you how the rules work,” the stranger bellowed, making sure to spit every word and adding a snarl at the end for good measure. On any other man, it would have looked downright silly, but on this man of imposing stature it seemed only to increase his menacing presence and add to the uneasiness that had befallen the atmosphere. The man let out a small squeak as he struggled for breath and dropped to the ground when the stranger released his grip on his shirt. “I told ye before! I can't pay ye right now 'cause I don't get my pay yet, but I swear on me life that I'll find ye and pay the money I promised! Please don't hurt me!” he pleaded as he got on his knees and began shaking. “Me family's been goin' through rough times an' I was hoping that maybe I could find a job in Amer-” the stranger snarled and kicked a chair out of his way before beating the man senseless as his squeals and screams echoed throughout the pub. The workers watched with pitiful expressions not meeting any of their gazes, keeping a clear distance from the action with no intention of helping. 

Killian's stomach churned as he watched the man wince before every strike and whimper as the blunt force hit him. He couldn't bear to watch any longer and cast his eyes to the ground hoping that this ordeal would be over soon. Once he felt the beating stop, the stranger stepped back. Killian felt a surge of reckless bravery and rushed over to the scrawny man to drag his limp body to the side and propped him up against a wall. Though beaten badly, the man was barely conscious and his breaths began to stabilise as he rested against the wall. It wouldn't be a surprise if he had broken a rib or fractured a few bones. Finnigan knelt down to Killian's side and tapped his shoulder lightly while he examined the bruises on the man's forehead. He eyed his surroundings and made sure no one was glancing in their direction.  
“You know that big guy with the red coat? I have a plan that'll give us the tickets for our trip,” Finnigan muttered, glancing over at the table which the stranger settled back in. Two unmistakable slips of paper lay on the table surface and slowly, the chatter and life of the pub resumed, albeit a little more wary than before.

“You've got to be kidding me.” 

“It's our only chance. Besides, I brought the lucky dice with us today.” 

Finnigan rummaged into his waistcoat pocket and took out a pair of old wooden dice with scratches on the surface and shook them in his palm, smirking as his brother cast him a look of uncertainty. 

“They aren't going to do us any good, Fee. They haven't won anything for years,” Killian whispered harshly, remembering the way they had betrayed uncle Frerin a few years ago. Their mother had never quite forgiven him and never told them the details of what happened that night.

“Well maybe today's our lucky day.”

“Are you out of your min—” 

Before Killian could finish, Finnigan rose from the floor and strutted towards the stranger while shoving his dice back into his pocket.

“Ay you! Yeah you with the red coat!” 

~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ .~

The stranger had walked towards the exit with the intention to leave while the two were bickering, until he was stopped by the unlikeliest of people. Perhaps he had attracted too much unwanted attention, but he had never expected that he would catch the attention of a lanky youngster. He turned around to face the lad with fair hair and flashed a grin when he noticed his stupidly brave demeanour. He had given people hell for calling him out in the past and there was no reason not to with this boy. No one disrespected the dragon in his lair and this boy had marched right into it without a sword.

“Manners, boy. What do you want?” he sneered. 

“Goin' to play you, fair and square.” 

“What would a young lad like you have to lose?” 

“I'm not goin' to lose anything today, sir. Only win.” 

The stranger couldn't help but snicker. Such a brave little boy. Such children were bound to die young

“Go on, tell me your plan.” 

“Just feelin' rather lucky today and hopefully that luck'll stay with me when I play. As for the offering—”

Finnigan reached into his trouser pocket and withdrew the pendant.

“Will this be enough to appease the sir?” 

The stranger looked at the pendant with interest and Finnigan flinched back a little when the stranger's eyes met his. There was a dangerous gleam in the stranger's eyes and in them, Finnigan saw fire and brimstone.

“Where did you get such a gem like this, boy. Surely it's not something you can buy, is it? Rather old and pricey by the looks of it. Nick it off a gentleman on the streets did you?” 

Finnigan smirked.

“Doesn't matter where it came from as I'm not goin' to lose it today. In fact, I'll be bringin' it to America with me an Kii over there.” 

The stranger strode to an empty table and gestured for Finnigan to follow. 

“You intrigue me, boy. What is your name?” 

Finnigan opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word, he felt a hand tug on his trousers. Killian tugged at his trousers and mouthed one simple word before Finnigan swatted his hand away. 

“Don't” 

He paid no heed to his brother's warning and instead made his way to the stranger and swallowed hard. 


	2. Scattering the Ashes

Finnigan had read storybooks and heard fairy stories in his childhood that followed the journey of a valiant hero on a seemingly hopeless quest to rescue a princess from the dragon's lair and often he would scoff at such tales at their chivalry and silliness; after all, they were fairy stories and Finnigan had a hard time trying to relate to any of the characters, as they were too fantastical and magical to relate back to the dull and monotonous reality in which they lived. Yet now, he understood the hero's fear and terror as he walked right into the dragon's lair. His facade of arrogance and haughtiness melted away as he came ever closer to the dragon fire and the inferno that awaited him. 

With one last glance over to Killian, he straightened his suspenders and sat down at the table, with his eyes darting around the room nervously, shifting around uncomfortably in his chair. The stranger reclined in his chair and flashed a toothy grin at Finnigan.

“You still haven't told me your name, boy.” 

Finnigan flinched back a little when he saw the stranger's unnerving grin and he could've sworn that his teeth were abnormally sharp. Up close, he was a lot more menacing than he could've ever imagined. At a distance, the stranger seemed to be no more than a passing threat, but now that Finnigan was close enough to see the numerous scars etched across his face, each one undoubtedly with its own story, he shuddered. There was an uncanny light to his amber eyes that made his features even more sinister. It was hard enough to not falter at his gaze, but Finnigan tried to kept his composure and tried not to look directly into the stranger's eyes. Never look directly into a dragon's eyes.

“M-ma said I shouldn't tell m'name to strangers,” he stuttered. 

The stranger let out a low throaty laugh before gesturing for one of his men to come over. They had been lurking in the shadows while the stranger did his business and seemed to serve no other purpose than to intimidate. Finnigan wouldn't give him the pleasure of giving him the same fate the other man had suffered and was now hell-bent on winning the tickets. His gaze lingered on them before one of the men had noticed and quickly handed them back to the stranger who quickly pocketed them.

“Now now, before we get too greedy." He chided. "This one amuses me. I suppose I'd better watch my little gold hoard. He might even have a chance to take not only my tickets, but everything!”.

The stranger waved his hand at one of the men nearby and in response the man inclined his head and went to fetch a small briefcase from one of the nearby tables. He took a cigar and a lighter out from his coat pocket and fiddled around with the lighter until the man returned. 

“So I have my treasure here, cash and other valuables. Any of these could be yours. Say, bring out that pretty little stone of yours. Put it on the table and let me see it, or are you afraid to lose it?” he said slyly. Nearby, one of his men snarled. 

Finnigan reached into his pocket and clutched the Arkenstone in his palm. He _was_ afraid of losing it. After all, it was an heirloom and if he lost it today, it would mean that both of the boys would lose their chance to follow their uncle and return home empty-handed, missing one of the most precious things the Durins had in possession. It was all or nothing and he was not prepared to lose it all so soon.

“Not until I see the tickets. How can I be so sure that you won't just snatch it away the moment I put it on the table?” he demanded, unfaltering. He made sure that his message was loud and clear. 

One of the men looked as if they were about to strike Finnigan across the face for such insolence, but the stranger held up his hand and shooed him away. The stranger closed the briefcase and took out the tickets he had pocketed.

“The tickets are real. You can see them for yourself if you're that unsure.” 

The stranger extended his hand and handed over the tickets before reclining back into his chair and continued fiddling with his lighter. The stranger watched as the sparks flickered out from the opening and there was a maddening light to his eyes now, as the embers were reflected in his eyes. 

Finnigan hesitated at first, feeling the piercing glares the men were giving him. The pub was silent now, as most of the clatter of dishes and cutlery had stopped and all the attention was directed towards the lone table near the back where a young blond man and a stranger clad in red wagered their prizes. Even the waiters and waitresses had momentarily stopped flying from one end of the pub to the other, to watch the tale unfold. 

After a quick glance around, Finnigan gingerly took the tickets from the stranger's hand and inspected them thoroughly. The stranger looked at him almost like he was beckoning him to run off with the tickets any moment. He could almost feel the sea-breeze and wind in his face and imagined the face that their uncle would make when he discovered that his two clingy nephews had followed him all the way across the ocean to America. His delusions were cut short when he realised that first he had to win those tickets and only then would his wild imaginings become reality. He wasn't even sure if luck was on his side, but fortune would not make a fool of him, not when they had come his far and it was far far too late to turn back now.

“Seems good to me.” And with that, Finnigan placed the Arkenstone on the table with a protective hand on the chain. 

“Atta boy.” 

Finnigan reached into his other pocket and took out the lucky dice and handed them to the stranger for inspection. 

“They're perfectly normal. No rigging, no nothing.” 

The stranger held them up for inspection and ran his fingers over all the sides before handing them back to Finnigan. 

“Alright, boy. Make your bet.” 

Finnigan tensed up, as he could feel the lingering gazes of everyone in the pub boring into him, awaiting his next move. Seven. Usually, it would be outrageous to even think of betting that number as often times it would bring more bad than good, but his plan was outrageous in itself and it wouldn't hurt to push his luck.

“Any seven.” 

The stranger let out a low undecipherable hum and finally lit his cigar. He inhaled a few times before returning his attention back to the table. 

“Snake eyes.” 

Both of them were pushing their luck now. 

The stranger withdrew his own pair of dice and toyed with them until casting a last glance over in Finnigan's direction. 

“Ready?” 

He nodded and tightened his grip on the Arkenstone's chain. 


	3. The Weight of a Life in Gold

“Impossible.” 

“You saw it yourself, didn't you? I rolled and I won, pay up what you promised.” 

The stranger continued to look menacing, however Finnigan sat straight and refused him the pleasure intimidating him. Finnigan saw an unearthly fire in his eyes, but he sat there tall and proud. His senses were telling him to snatch the tickets and dash, however Killian was still in the corner watching him nervously. He was confident that if he left now that he would have at least a 3-second head start, but that would leave Kii in the pub and there was no way that he'd get out in time. Even if he snatched the tickets and Killian make it out in time with their belongings, it would be impossible to outrun the stranger and the men at his side. Finnigan clenched his fist and squeezed the Arkenstone chain tighter.

The stranger slammed his cigar onto the table and growled. Finnigan dwarfed the stranger by at least two feet and his shadow grew as he stood up. Before anyone could utter a word, Killian jerked up and hurled a chair towards them. The workers retreated back into the kitchen as customers fled and scrambled out of the pub doors. The brothers exchanged brief looks before one of the men at the stranger's side rushed over to Killian with malice and enmity. 

The pub was becoming a battlefield for the two brothers and both knew that the less time they spent there, the better. Killian hurled chairs, tables and whatever he could find towards the men and hastily grabbed his baggage from the floor. He dashed for the door as he called out to Finnigan. Chairs and tables flew as they were hauled across the pub, glass bottles and plates were shattered and as Killian found out, steak knives and forks made for excellent improvised weapons.

“Fee, get the tickets!” 

Finnigan snatched the tickets from the table and shoved it down one of his trouser pockets and ran after Killian. Several men were rushing towards him with their fists curled and ready to strike, however their size made them fumble and Finnigan avoided their blows with relative ease. 

“Bring me the boy's pendant and get me back those tickets!” the stranger barked. The men began frantically chasing after Finnigan and left a trail of broken furniture and cutlery in their wake in unsuccessful attempts to seize the smaller and more agile boy. Most of the furniture had either been hurled across the room, or pushed out of the way and now there was little wreckage blocking Finnigan's escape route. 

He sprinted towards the door and didn't dare to look back. Finnigan could hear the men behind chase after him, however he didn't slow down until he caught sight of his brother a few feet in front of him. The chaos in the pub had given Killian a brief head-start and Finnigan slowly began to pick up his pace. The two brothers began to slowly weave their way back into the alleyways and did not stop until they were certain that they were not being followed. 

They stopped to catch their breath against a cold brick wall and took a quick rest before they even exchanged glances at each other or listened for the sound of footsteps approaching. Killian grunted as he dropped the suitcase and mumbled incoherently. Finnigan let out a breathless chuckle as he saw how red Killian's face and palms were. Sweat beaded down his forehead as he began to slowly regain his breath. 

“Next time ye devise a plan as stupid as this... You'll be the one carryin' the heavy load- Mahal's beard, m'arms feel like they're goin' to snap off!” Killian mumbled with exasperation. 

Finnigan bowed his head and snorted, letting the sweat drip away from his face. 

He reached into his trouser pocket and smiled triumphantly as he felt both the Arkenstone and tickets tucked away securely. It was a shame that they didn't have the time to retrieve the dice, but the luck the dice wrought served them well today and for the first time, it seemed that fate was finally smiling upon them. From this point forward, they'd be making their own luck.

When they had recovered part of their energy, Finnigan volunteered to carry the suitcase for the remainder of the journey and the two began to slowly pick their way back to the main road. The sound of coaches and the sight of men clad in tailored suits and women with their broad feather hats were a relief to the brothers, as they knew that they were heading the right way. The ship boarded at noon and would not depart until two-thirty, which left them plenty of time to slowly pace themselves towards the dock. 

Killian made sure to soak in every last detail of his surroundings, from the paved sidewalks, to the numerous shops and businesses that lined them. It would be many years until he saw them again, as neither of them knew how long it would be until they returned – if they would ever return. 

They were approaching the harbour fast, as more people with luggage began to appear and before long, they saw the outline of the ship. The ship was equally as magnificent and was well-deserving of its name. A luxury cruise ship the people called it. Excitement welled in Killian as he dreamed of the adventure that awaited them upon the vessel.

A sudden jolt at his side snapped his mind away from his daydreams and beside him, a woman stumbled. She caught herself gracefully and lightly patted herself off. A sudden gust of wind knocked her hat off, revealing long copper tresses of hair. She was quite a lovely sight to behold; a shocked palid face with a dusting of freckles and full pink lips. Without a second thought, Killian knelt down and lifter the hat off the ground and handed it back to her. 

“I... believe ye dropped this.” 

The woman paused for a moment before nodding her head in polite acknowledgment before a voice from behind called her. 

“Tiffany! What are you doing?” 

A young man, no older than twenty parted his way through the crowd and took his place next to the woman. His blonde hair was combed back into an orderly fashion and his appearance was well-groomed and sharp in contrast to Killian's shaggy hair and worn patched clothing. The young man looked at Killian with disgust before snatching the hat and inspected it, as if it had been soiled just by his touch. 

“The hat's expensive and if it gets soiled, I don't think you have the money to pay for it,” the young man sneered. 

Killian didn't like the way he spoke and the way he carried himself with haughtiness and lowered his head to avoid his gaze with his lips pursed. The young man wrapped an arm around the Tiffany's shoulder and gently nudged her away. She glanced back to meet Killian's eyes one last time before she was ushered away towards the ship. Killian didn't know how long it would be until he saw her again, but he had hope that they would meet again and perhaps he would have a chance to speak with her. 

“Ay, the ship's boarding! Are you comin' or not?” 

His brother's familiar voice rang beside him and jerked him back to his senses. Killian sighed and cast one last look at the bustling streets and it occurred to him that he might never see them again. He bid the land farewell and raced after his brother as he approached the gangplank.


	4. Home is Behind

As the brothers approached the grand entrance of the ship, there they were met by whispers and unfriendly looks the other passengers cast at them. In the midst of an ocean of the rich and wealthy, the two brothers stood out sorely. As the line slowed down, Finnigan reached into his pocket and took out the tickets. Killian glanced around anxiously as the passengers at the front showed a man stationed at the entrance their tickets. There was always the possibility that they would be denied entry to the ship at all and all that they had wished for would be for nothing. Finnigan sensed his brother's doubt and gently patted him on the shoulder for reassurance. “Don't stress yourself too much, Kee. We'll be let in for sure. I've seen everyone else's tickets and I'm sure these are the real thing.” Finnigan smiled.

When the line finally reached them, the man stationed at the entrance cocked an eyebrow and scanned the two brothers. His icey stare sent shivers down Killian's spine as he let the man examine him. There was a long pause before the man broke the silence. 

“Tickets?”

Finnigan extended his hand and gave the man the tickets. The man gestured towards the inside of the ship before turning his back.

“Stay here.” 

Once the man turned his back and entered the ship, it was only then Finnigan and Killian saw for the first time the fine embellished interior of the ship and the red carpets that lined the staircases. They let their eyes take in the sight until the ticket man reappeared with a few other plainer looking men. They whispered and spoke in low voices before returning their attention back to the two youngsters standing at the entrance. 

“I am afraid that there has been an error and the wrong tickets have been issued. These men will kindly guide you towards the rooms you were originally designated to stay in.” 

“Wha-”

Without sparing a few seconds to think, the men grabbed Finnigan's suitcase while another escorted the brothers away from the entrance. Finnigan shouted a few protests as he and his brother were ushered away from the grand entrance and away from the ship. They did little to resist, as the odds were not in their favour if they showed any resistance, so they allowed themselves to be lead away from the gangplank while the stares of the other passengers followed after them. 

The men lead them to a separate gangplank, far away from the entrance to the grand hall. Here, the men stopped and handed back Finnigan's suitcase and tickets. A pang of humiliation and frustration struck him as he watched the men walk away. It all became clear to Finnigan that they were not welcome among the first class passengers. 

The line was short and quick compared to the first class entrance. Finnigan reluctantly handed his tickets over and they were given instructions on how to reach their room. They walked in silence as they paced down the narrow hallway until they reached the room designated for them. It was no surprise to find their room was already occupied by three people when they reached it. Finnigan was close to throwing a childish tantrum and screaming in rage, until his brother tugged on his shirt and lead him inside. He stood there silent and motionless as he watched Killian take his suitcase and asked if there were any unoccupied beds. Killian placed the suitcase on a bunk bed and sat down next to it, rubbing his temples.

The room was rather small and their suitcase occupied a large portion of their bed, but not large enough to leave no room for another to squeeze in. There were three bunk beds in total and it seemed that they had already been occupied. There was only one other man in the room with them, but neither brothers payed attention to their new roommate. 

Finnigan followed after shortly and let out a sigh of defeat as he lowered himself next to his brother.

“I suppose it's better than nothin',” Killian grumbled. 

“We don't deserve this.”

“If everythin' goes according to the plan then-”

“ _If_ , brother. If.” 

Killian furrowed his brows and shook his head. 

“Since when did ya start losin' faith?”

No response. 

“Remember how I thought this whole gamble of yours wasn't ever going to work? You proved me wrong one time at the pub and we can't lose hope now, not when we've already gone so far.” 

Another pause. 

A voice interrupted the brothers from their thoughts. 

“He's right laddie, you've got ta keep your chin up in times like these.” 

Finnigan looked up and saw their roommate; an old man with a long white beard and he was smiling at him. 

“None of us deserved this, we've just got to hope for the best and maybe things will change.” 

The man's eyes twinkled as he spoke and Finnigan could almost trick himself into believing that what the man had said was right and that everything will change for the better. Finnigan lifted himself off the bed and stretched. It had been a long day of running from one adventure to another and maybe he was just exhausted. 

“Well... I suppose it _is_ a little too late to have doubts now, but there still is hope." Finnigan rested his hands on his hips and took a deep breath in. "I'm not going to let those rich buggers stop us from becoming like them, whether they like it or not.” he spoke triumphantly. 

The bearded man turned towards the door and cast one last reassuring smile at Finnigan. 

“Well, I'm going out for a little stroll and hopefully meet and greet a few other passengers. Been a pleasure meeting you youngsters." The bearded man glanced over at their suitcase and gave them a meaningful look. "I suggest you start sorting out your luggage before dinner else you'll be exhausted before you get to the hall.”

Finnigan nodded as a sign of gratitude before letting him go on with his business.

“You done doubting yourself Fee? I'm pretty sure am. Let's get this baggage sorted out and then maybe we'll go out for dinner.”


	5. What's in a Name?

Slender fingers traced purple veins on pale, translucent skin. Tiffany sat as still as a statue on the red velvet couch of the First Class suite, lost in her thoughts as Leon barked orders at the men working meticulously to refurnish the room. 

“–and make sure none of the paintings are slanting to either side! My father didn't pay you all to do a lousy job!” 

She let a low, steady sigh as she fiddled with her fingers, twiddling her thumbs and paying no heed to sound of heavy luggage being hauled into the room. As a child, she had grown up with only a lamp stand to furnish her room and here, it seemed almost as if Leon's father had put the effort of transferring half of the mansion's furniture onto the ship. They had been told that the ship had no other space to offer except the suite they had paid for to store their luggage and Leon had ordered the crew to replace the provided furnishings with their own. In her mind, it was unnecessary for such effort to be put into a short voyage; after all, it was only a week before they reached American soil and this was their temporary abode for only the journey's duration. 

Once the clamour and noise had died down, Leon ordered all the men out and took a deep breath before planting himself next to Tiffany on the couch. 

“I suppose they haven't done half a bad job at meeting my demands, but if we're to compare my expectations with father's, they're rather low, don't you think?” he asked jokingly. 

Tiffany shrugged. She knew all too well of Leon's father and his high expectations for everyone, yet he had decided to give her a place to dwell after her parents had died working in his factory. Some called it pity, but she saw it as compassion. During her childhood, strict rules were imposed on her during her stay in the Wood mansion; she wasn't allowed to be seen while guests were around, yet his father had allowed her to play with his son and stay in the garden late at night to gaze at the starlight skies. 

“Of course he'd have high expectations of you, but I'm not quite sure about others though. You're Theodore Wood's heir for goodness sake, anyone would expect much from you,” she replied flatly.

While Theodore had not treated her with in the highest of esteem, Tiffany didn't like speaking ill of him either. He had raised and cared for her in his own way, even if she wasn't treated the same as his own child. Maids and servants cared and bathed her daily and she dined with the family during meals. She was beloved in the household and dear to the servants; even Theodore's stoic butler had taken a liking to her. 

Leon chuckled and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “He expects more from you than me to be honest. If you ask me, it's wholly unfair that he demands a child from you as soon as you turn eighteen.” 

She did not wince away from his touch, as they had both been friends since childhood and had even shared a bath once or twice. It was because of this familiarity Leon had chosen to marry her. Still, it was not without uneasiness as it felt strange for him to extend their relationship into something beyond mere childhood friends, but his father required an heir and he had been told that the woman he would take to be wife did not have to be of notable lineage, as their own had enough status. 

She sighed and rested her head on Leon's shoulder. The new suit his father had bought him smelled of fresh linen and the fabric was soft against her cheek. Tiffany sat there, gazing at the wall without any particular thoughts crossing her mind and felt Leon's hand gently stroke her hair. 

“Dinner's soon, so I suggest we get dressed. We'll be dining with a lot of father's associates. So dress nicely.” 

Leon pushed himself off the couch and planted a chaste kiss on Tiffany's forehead, leaving her alone in her thoughts.


	6. That Which We Would Call a Rose

She sat at her vanity, tucking in stray hair strands that stuck out awkwardly with hair pins and once she was confident that she looked presentable, slipped on a pair of white doeskin gloves and smoothed out any wrinkles on her emerald silk dress. Tiffany hardly recognised the reflection in the mirror as the frightened little orphan girl who was embarrassed of her complexion and bright hair every time she looked at herself, but instead as a young woman who had a duty to serve. Standing up, she got a better look at herself and strode out the door where an escort waited for her outside her suite to bring her to the dining room.

~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ .~ 

When she arrived, the dining room was filled with light chatter. From the corner of her eye, she saw a hand rise up to the air to catch her attention. She turned her head and saw Leon seated among four people she didn’t recognise but immediately identified as his father’s associates he had been talking about earlier. The table was far smaller than what she had expected, but it also meant that conversations were kept closed and private, to which she was thankful. She seated herself beside Leon under the unnerving stare of the woman opposite her. They had seemed to put off ordering food until all had arrived and after quickly scanning the menu, she picked the dish that sounded the simplest.

“I would like to introduce my fiancé Tiffany, Tiffany-” 

It was quite different than what she was used to as when the Wood family would host parties in their and balls in their estate, she would often be seen lurking by the food and refreshment tables and allow the rest of the nobility to carry on with their own closed conversations. Here, she would have to meet their gazes where she would be expected to talk, one slip-up would cost her and-

Leon had seemed to notice her lack of attention and coughed uncomfortably, while she met the woman’s gaze. She was smiling and seemed to have noticed her discomfort by a slight softening of her facial expression but the intensity of her gaze remained in piercing blue eyes that reflected an ageless wisdom. 

“Forgive me, that was rather rude of me-” she began.

“It is quite alright, my dear. Many falter under such pressure and all is forgiven,” the woman cut in, saving her an awful amount of embarrassment. “I am Gladys Lórien and this is my husband, Casper. He too is unable to cope with social situations,” gesturing to the man beside her who seemed to be in a deep non-verbal conversation with his beef sirloin. “If all goes according to Mr. Wood’s plan, there will be plenty of chances where we will meet again.” she said delightedly. 

The rest of the dinner seemed to pass by much quicker and less awkward than when it had started, mostly due to the fact that Leon had began to relax and his eyebrows no longer looked as if they were perpetually furrowed. Elliot -- whose name she had picked up through listening to conversation -- was the only one to remain sombre throughout the whole ordeal. Tiffany herself had allowed herself to giggle at jokes thrown here and there. 

After dessert had been served, she decided that she’d had enough of the dining room and excused herself for some fresh air. She clambered her way up to one of the empty decks and leaned on the railings, taking in the sea breeze as the chill gently prickled her face. She would not stay long as she had not brought a coat or shawl with her and it would be most unpleasant if she were to catch a cold during these few days, but the stars scattered across the night sky urged her to remain outside just a little longer. She raised a gloved finger and began to trace Orion’s belt she recognised from Leon’s lectures (“Orion’s belt is the only place in the sky where there are three equally spaced stars in a row and if you go a little bit up like this, you can find Betelgeuse”).

“Hey!” 

A voice from behind interrupted her string of thoughts and she whipped around to find the source. The shaggy man she recognised from earlier stood there, a little tipsy and unbalanced, grinning and waving like a madman. Her first instinct was to run, but something about an intoxicated teenager slowly staggering over to where she stood didn’t seem to give off much malicious intent.

“‘s not good for a lady like you to be out al’one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I practically haven't updated this fic forever and I've noticed that, but for those who have read the first draft of this fic, I would highly recommend going back and reading the first 5 chapters as they have been revisited and polished quite a bit since the first time. Again, I promise no certain intervals or dates in which the next update will come but I do hope it's soon!


	7. Drown It Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild trigger warning for alcohol and author sentiments.

The food wasn’t bad, in fact it was quite decent compared to the food they were accustomed to eating, yet there was a strange dissatisfaction that welled up in his mind as he chewed mindlessly on his steak. Around him, people were bantering, laughing and drinking, thoroughly enjoying themselves as people ought to do, but something in Killian’s mind had clicked and his mind became immersed in a different reality than his body was present in where all the noise, images and sensations were drowned out in a haze until he became completely oblivious to his surroundings.

Usually his folly and rash decisions were usually blamed on his youth and all would usually be forgiven, but now he sat in silence with the realisation that he had quite possibly made the decision he would regret the most. Not once did he stop to think about his mother and her realisation her sons had run away from home to pursue a dream that seemed to grow more distant and out of reach as the hours passed and time marched on, not once did he ever think about how much he would miss his home and the familiarity of the place he had grown accustomed to since birth; and for that, Killian would never forgive himself for never stopping to consider all of these things. 

He wondered if Finnigan had ever thought it through either as he certainly didn’t show any signs of regret, but there was no point wondering now as they were god knows how many miles away from home now. 

There was no point living a past that was no longer present. 

No. 

It was not the right time or place to think about such things. 

He still had Finnigan and knowing that his brother was here with him was enough to comfort him.

His senses all came back in a rush of excitement and energy and his head rattled violently as he was shaken side to side by a worried Finnigan at his side, desperately calling his name and patting his cheek. 

Without a second thought, he swatted his hand away and jerked his body upright. He had no clue what urged him to do so, but he knew for certain he was not himself at the moment. Knowing that, he grabbed a cup that had been sitting comfortably on the table until now, downing its contents in large animalistic gulps like a madman while his brother watched in a mixture of shock and awe. 

After his lips left the cup, his senses were dulled again and the words that had been hanging on his tongue the whole evening until now were finally uttered.

“Fuck it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shrugs*


End file.
